Epilogue: Part Two

Fi

fi looked out from under the brim of her new brown hat as she rode into the small border town of Benthaven, the kingdom of Andar at her back.

Benthaven was little more than a few log cabins that doubled as shops and residences and a single squat inn with uneven windows. A cluster of shacks was tucked back into the swaying pines, and any number of trappers and hunters pitched tents in the foothills during the summer. It was dusty and imposing, and it reminded Fi of Raven’s Roost—the town where she had met Shane and they had partnered up for their one job together.

The thought put a lopsided smile on Fi’s face as she dismounted in front of the inn. She handed the reins of her horse over to a stable boy, along with a few coppers from her newly fattened purse. Being a hero had its perks. The boy grinned in thanks, disappearing with the dapple-gray mare.

Her body was stiff from the long ride and too many nights sleeping on the ground. Fi had been traveling for days, camping out under the moon and starting off early in the mornings as she headed for the border. But now that she was here, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d left something important behind. Probably because she hadn’t told Briar goodbye.

Fi’s boots scuffed in the dirt as she trudged toward the door, the evening sky roiling with storm clouds. Briar didn’t remember her or what they had shared; he had been like a different person in the castle of Andar, and Fi couldn’t stand it. She wasn’t running, though. She was just giving them both the space to find out who they were again.

Okay, she was running, but that didn’t make it the wrong decision.

Fi knew she could have stayed in Andar. She’d been welcomed as their savior, offered every position from library keeper to a seat on the ruling council, which she was woefully unqualified for. But it wasn’t what she wanted. For the first time in so long, Fi was free of the Butterfly Curse. She could go anywhere she wanted, stay anywhere she wanted, without worrying about hurting anyone. She wasn’t ready to be tied to one place.

Briar had wanted to leave with her once, but he wasn’t that Briar anymore. He was the prince of Andar again—a beautiful, willowy stranger with a gold circlet in his tousled blond hair. Fi wasn’t sure she was still a treasure hunter, but she didn’t want to be a princess, either, and that’s what Briar needed now: a princess to help rebuild Andar by his side.

She had tried to bury her feelings for him and her memories of all they’d been. But how could she when he kept doing all the little things that reminded her why she’d fallen in love with him? Briar flashing that dazzling smile. Briar performing little magic tricks for the delighted children, making a small white spark leap between his fingertips. Briar, who was such an abysmal dancer but who made her laugh so much she never wanted to stop. Briar, whose bright, beautiful magic always lit up the darkest places.

She’d been on the cusp of telling him everything that night on the balcony—seizing his hand through the cloud of butterflies and asking him to go with her. But in the end, she couldn’t be that selfish. She couldn’t risk Briar coming with her out of some sense of obligation. She rode out of the castle courtyard with a deep ache in her chest, but it was worse to feel that ache when he was right in front of her. Briar, but not her Briar.

All she had left was her old promise. She’d been willing to walk away from Briar once before, because if they were destiny, then this wasn’t over. She would come back to Andar one day, when she was ready, and if everything Briar had told her was true, then he’d fall in love with her all over again. She could hold on to that. Her only regret was that he’d deserved a better goodbye. They all had.

A fat drop of rain hit the brim of Fi’s hat, and she hurried toward the inn, her brown coat flapping around her. She’d definitely want to book a room for tonight.

Fi took off her hat as she stepped through the stout wooden door into the common room. A wave of heat washed over her from the crackling fireplace. The floor of the inn was crowded with rough-hewn tables and chairs and a few bleached stumps set in a half circle around the fire. A set of narrow stairs led to the rooms on the upper floor. Harried servers bustled in and out of the small kitchen in the back, and a stern man who had to be the innkeeper stood at the long bar, polishing glasses.

Most of the tables were already filled—groups of men and women with the hard look of traders, and one trio of robed figures who could only be Witches on their way to Andar, their jovial faces bright as they clinked their cups in a cheer. Fi had to smile. She could see a few open tables in the back corner, and the room smelled heavenly, of spices and stew. Fi wetted her lips, wondering what the tea was like here.

She was about halfway to the bar when a chair suddenly scraped across the floor in front of her, almost taking her out at the knees. Fi whipped around to glare at the person who had kicked the chair out. Her eyes widened.

“Shane!” she breathed in surprise.

The huntsman sat kicked back with her feet propped up on the edge of the table. Her dusk-red coat sprawled behind her like a cape, and her hair was windswept. She grinned at Fi, arching an eyebrow.

“I ordered your usual.” She waved at the table, where a slightly bent copper teacup waited in front of the empty seat. “Though I don’t know why you bother,” she added, taking a swig from her wooden mug. “Do you have any idea how far we are from a lemon grove?”

Fi dropped into the chair in front of the lemon tea, feeling like she was in some kind of dream. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her first sip of tea was far too sour, and she wrinkled her nose.

Shane’s smile said I told you so. “Please,” she drawled. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I knew you’d try to run off and leave us all behind. It’s practically your signature move.”

“I did not run off and leave you behind! I left a note,” Fi protested, feeling a little blush creeping into her cheeks. “No matter how you slice it, our one job is definitely over. Besides”—she ran a finger around the rim of the teacup—“you and Red seemed happy in Andar.”

Shane dropped her feet to the floor, almost choking with laughter. “How does someone so smart miss something so obvious?” she wanted to know.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Fi grumbled.

Shane shook her head. “Andar’s not my home, and it’s certainly not Red’s. And I didn’t stick with you all that way just for the treasure—well, at least not entirely, partner.”

Fi’s mouth went dry. For some reason, she felt a prickle behind her eyes. She told herself it was just the heat getting to her after the long, cold nights traveling alone. “Well,” she said, favoring Shane with a little smile, “there is this job I was going to take on . . . but it’s a big job, and dangerous . . .”

“My favorite kind,” Shane said, leaning forward on her elbows.

Fi nudged the undrinkable tea away, matching Shane’s pose and lowering her voice. “I’m going after the Lord of the Butterflies,” she said, watching Shane’s eyes widen.

“You think that creepy old Witch is still alive?” she asked.

Fi shrugged. “Probably not, but I have a feeling there are plenty more slivers of him out there, hidden in mirrors. I intend to find them all and put them to rest.” Fi felt the phantom tingle on her palm where the curse mark had been. She brushed her thumb over the smooth, pale scar.

Shane whistled. “You’re right—that is a big job. Sounds like it could take a long time.”

Fi smiled at her partner’s unsubtle attempt to pry. “Well, I plan to make a lot of stops along the way. Maybe even stick around in a few places. Who knows—it could take us all the way to Steelwight.”

Shane grinned. “I’ve also heard Idlewild is an excellent place to spend the winter.”

Fi rolled her eyes, smiling so wide it hurt. “You’ve heard that, huh?”

“Know anybody who’d put us up?”

Her parents. A rush of warmth and longing surged through her, so strong she had to close her eyes. She imagined them tucked up in the library at Idlewild, her father trying to keep his place in three different books at once while her mother unrolled a leaf of ancient parchment, her dark braid pinned back by a pair of crossed fountain pens. She could almost feel the warmth of the mountain sun on her face already, the walk up to the front door spilling over with goldenrod and orchids. And the way it would feel to throw her arms around them and to know, for the first time in so long, she was home.

“It was always going to be my first stop,” Fi said, shaking her head at her blunt busybody partner who was always looking out for her.

Shane held out a hand. “So, what do you say? One more job?”

“One more job,” Fi agreed, shaking on it.

Shane’s grin was pure gold. It twisted as she looked at something over Fi’s shoulder, her nose wrinkling.

“I should have warned you I come with a little extra baggage these days.”

Fi only had a second to wonder before a hand slammed down on the table hard enough to make sour lemon tea splash over the side of the cup. That’s what the master got for serving it without a saucer. Fi craned her head around to look at Red, who had come up behind her. The girl wore a scarlet skirt and blouse laced up under a black bodice. Her loose curls bounced as she tossed her head.

“Shane,” she said indignantly. “They won’t let us stay here. Even though I did exactly what you said and pretended Cinzel’s a dog, we’re not allowed to have any pets in the room. So I said he’s not a pet, he’s family, and that rude jerk at the bar told me Cinzel could sleep in the barn!”

“Okay. Relax, I got this,” Shane said, getting up and rubbing her neck. “Who’d want a wolf in their barn?” she muttered.

Fi smiled. Shane sure looked happy for someone with a lot of extra baggage.

The huntsman kicked her chair back under the creaky table. “I gotta deal with this.”

“Need a hand?” Fi asked. She had just gotten to her feet when the door burst open and slammed against the wall, making the patrons jump. A gust of wind swirled around the figure that stood in the doorway.

Briar Rose braced one hand against the frame, panting. His golden hair was wild and speckled with rain, and he wore a white blouse and dark pants under a very familiar blue coat, the rich fabric sewn with dark patches and tiny embroidered roses. He wasn’t wearing a circlet.

“Briar . . .” Fi whispered. She felt frozen to the spot.

“Fi!” he yelled.

“Looks like you’ve got something more important to take care of,” Shane said, pushing Red ahead of her toward the bar, but not before shooting Fi a very smug look.

Briar was fighting his way through the startled crowd, his blue eyes locked on hers. He ran the last few steps, and Fi found herself swept up into a tight embrace, nearly lifting her off the ground. Briar’s coat was soft against her cheek. She could hear his heart hammering like he’d run all the way from the castle.

“I finally caught up with you, Fi . . .” he whispered into her ear.

Her heart melted when he said her name. Tears swam in her eyes, and this time, she let them fall, wrapping her arms around Briar’s neck and fisting her hands in his coat. She could feel the other patrons watching them, the Witches asking each other in whispers if that was really Prince Briar Rose. But she barely heard them. Her whole world was Briar—Briar’s warm arms and his soft coat and the scent of roses easing that great dull pain in her chest. She pushed herself back a step so she could look up at him, just to see the recognition in his eyes.

“You remember me,” she said.

“I remember everything,” Briar said, voice cracking. “Including something you seem to have forgotten. A promise we made to run off together.”

Fi swallowed hard. It was what she wanted to hear, more than anything, but she had to be sure.

“Briar,” she began, “you belong in Andar. If you want to stay, I won’t hold you to that promise.”

“Oh, Fi.” Briar leaned down, pressing their foreheads together, and this time, when she looked into the depths of his blue eyes, she felt like she could see his love for her shining in them, taking her breath away. “I told you I already know where I belong. It’s not in that castle—it’s with you, wherever you go.” He was so close—close enough that Fi could almost feel the brush of his lips with each word. “I know you already have a partner, but could you use a Witch?” He lifted his hand, a single finger sparkling with pure-white magic. “Even one who can only do a few tricks?”

Fi covered his hand with hers, smiling at the light pouring through her fingers. She’d never need a torch again. “That sounds incredibly useful,” she promised. “I can’t think of anything I need more.”

Briar gave her a dazzling smile. Then he leaned down and kissed her, and Fi closed her eyes, sinking into him. She didn’t know if Briar’s magic was still crackling between their hands, showering them with brilliant sparks. All she knew was that this was a different kind of magic—the kind that meant Fi would never be alone again.

Maybe there was something to this destiny stuff, at least when you took it into your own hands.